


Walking Tall

by rubberduckies



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Oikawa Tooru's Knee Injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 02:31:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6220177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubberduckies/pseuds/rubberduckies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa found himself flat on the floor before he even realized what had happened. Someone was screaming hysterically, and it wasn't until he was rolled onto his back that he realized that that someone was him. He pressed his fists into his eyes and sobbed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walking Tall

Oikawa found himself flat on the floor before he even realized what had happened. Someone was screaming hysterically, and it wasn’t until he was rolled onto his back that he realized that that someone was him. He pressed his fists into his eyes and sobbed. 

The whistle was blown, signaling an official timeout. 

Through the floor, Oikawa could feel the stampede of vibrations from his teammates and coaches gathering around him, too many questions being thrown at him at once—what happened, was he all right, did he need a medic. 

“My knee,” he ground out through clenched teeth. His voice shook from the pain, and he took a shuddering breath to try to compose himself. “Popped.” 

When his words were met with silence, he dropped his hands to his sides. His coaches were looking at each other, unmistakeable knowing in their eyes, and his teammates wore faces of varying degrees of worry and confusion. Only Iwaizumi looked at him, the usual frown marring his face, but his eyes alight with something that Oikawa couldn’t quite figure out. 

“Iwa-chan…” 

Someone grabbed his leg and probed gently along the knee joint. But it wasn’t until his knee was bent slightly that Oikawa felt real pain. He let loose a guttural cry of pure agony, and Iwaizumi’s look of utter terror was the last thing he remembered before his world went black. 

–- 

He woke with a splitting headache. He kept his eyes closed, letting his memories slowly form into cohesive thoughts. 

He remembered the game. They had been up 12-8 in the first set. They’d made a full rotation and it had been Oikawa’s turn to serve again. His serve had been flawless as usual, but his landing—his mind was distracted. He’d landed with his knee completely straightened, and then it had folded underneath him. He’d fallen forward and was in a world of pain. 

Oikawa shifted his body gently, testing for injuries from his fall. He was sore, especially on his back and shoulders. And then he moved his legs. His left leg was fine, his muscles a little taut and crampy, but that was because he hadn’t been able to stretch after the game. He expected his right leg to feel the same. 

He experimented with his toes first, wiggling them back and forth. There was a strange tightness in the knee area when he did, so he lifted his leg slowly and tried bending it towards his body. A strangled cry ripped through his throat at the slight angle of his knee and his eyes flashed open to take in his surroundings. 

A woman in scrubs was rushing through the doorway. She grabbed something on the wall behind Oikawa and strapped it across his face. Immediately, oxygen began to blow through his nose and mouth and he struggled to take deep breaths. The concentration seemed to make the pain slowly ebb away. 

His parents entered the room next—his father looking stoic, his mother with eyes red as though from crying. They came to his bedside (apparently he was in the hospital) and squeezed his hand and ruffled his hair. Their comforting words were unsettling and Oikawa wondered if he was dying. 

A man in a white coat came next and Oikawa suspected that he must be the doctor. He wore a smile and spoke to Oikawa placatingly, which annoyed Oikawa endlessly. 

The next few moments were a blur. Oikawa had a tear in his ACL. It was fairly substantial, but not serious enough that he would need surgery. He was to use crutches until he was able to bear weight on it without pain and endure twelve months out-patient rehabilitation to help strengthen the knee joint and get back a normal range of motion. 

His future in volleyball was uncertain. 

Oikawa didn’t know if he wanted to cry or throw up. His mother began crying for him and his dad finished talking to the doctor to give him time to absorb the information. His knee was throbbing, sending a pulsating pain to the back of his head. He was fascinated with how his breath fogged up the inside of the oxygen mask. He watched it until his eyes grew heavy and he fell asleep. 

–- 

He was discharged a few hours later. He was outfitted with a pair of crutches and prescription pain medicine. The doctor warned him of dependency and told Oikawa only to rely on the prescription if the over-the-counter stuff wasn’t cutting it. Oikawa shrugged and popped two pills the minute he was in the backseat of his parents’ car. 

The drive home was torture. Even with the medicine, Oikawa could feel every bump and innocuous turn the vehicle made. He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes so he wouldn’t cry. Eventually he did throw up, all over himself and the upholstery. He didn’t have much in him but water, but that didn’t make it any less disgusting. 

Iwaizumi was waiting for him when he got home. Oikawa couldn’t help but smile when he saw him. 

“Tooru.” He sounded relieved. 

“Iwa-chan.” 

Iwaizumi helped Oikawa out of the car and carried his gym bag while Oikawa’s dad worked at cleaning the car. It was a long, slow walk to Oikawa’s room and Oikawa had to stop several times to catch his breath or adjust his crutches. Finally, they made it to his room at the end of the hall, where Oikawa plopped himself on the end of the bed and waited while Iwaizumi helped him change out of his soiled shirt. 

They talked amicably at first, with Iwaizumi asking why Oikawa was covered in vomit, and Oikawa joking that the oxygen mask had tickled his nose. They kept the conversation light until Oikawa asked about volleyball. 

“Did we win?” 

Iwaizumi was silent a beat before answering. “Don’t you check your phone anymore?” 

Oikawa cocked his head. With everything that had happened, he almost forgot he _owned_ a phone. Iwaizumi sighed and dug around Oikawa’s gym bag, fishing out his cellphone and tossing it to him. Between several social media notifications and concerned texts from Hanamaki and Matsukawa, at the top of the list was his most recent message from Iwaizumi. Aoba Johsai ended up winning their match 2-0 to move onto the next round. 

“That’s great, Iwa-chan.” He surely didn’t sound like it was great. He looked down at his hands, absently rubbing his thumb across his phone screen. 

“Oikawa, what—?” 

“We’ll need another setter before Thursday,” Oikawa said bitterly. 

He scrolled through his other texts, 10 in all. By the end, his jaw was set and his eyes narrowed. He read Iwaizumi’s last text again, the one announcing Aoba Johsai’s victory. He sighed disgustedly and threw his phone across the room. 

His hands were fisted around the bedsheets, his breathing heavy. Without warning, he shoved his crutches to the floor and stood. He took three rocky steps forward—left, right, left. His right knee hurt like hell, but he grit his teeth, determined not to be labeled an invalid. 

Iwaizumi grabbed his arm, stopping Oikawa just before he could step out on his injured leg again. 

“Let me go!” Oikawa roared, struggling to free himself from Iwaizumi’s grasp. 

“What are you trying to prove?” 

“I’m trying to get my phone!” He wasn’t, but it sounded better than anything else he would have come up with. 

Oikawa used all his strength to yank himself away from Iwaizumi. In the process, he stumbled, more weight falling on his injured knee than it was willing to hold. It buckled beneath him and he went down hard. 

Iwaizumi had his arms around him in an instant, checking to see if he was okay. Oikawa shoved him, his eyes hard. 

“You’re real stupid, you know that?” Iwaizumi sat back and crossed his legs on the floor. 

“Fuck you,” Oikawa spat. 

He knew Iwaizumi wasn’t particularly affected by his words, but he was still vexed when he didn’t retort. He needed someone to be angry with him so he could stop beating himself up over something that was beyond his control. 

Oikawa’s legs were tangled beneath him and it took all his concentration to lean back and right himself. By the time he was finally able to sit, his whole body was trembling and he was nearly out of breath—his knee hurt and he was just plain tired. The pain killers were wearing off and the dull throbbing was making him nauseous. 

“I don’t want this,” he said. He offered Iwaizumi a watery smile, because honestly, being angry was too draining. It was so much easier to be pitiful and weepy. 

Iwaizumi’s silence finally pushed him over the edge. Oikawa dissolved into quiet sobs, his hands pressing into his eyes, uselessly trying to stop the flow of tears. He cried because he was in pain—his knee really _hurt_. He cried because he was unable to pull himself off the floor. He cried because he was crying.

He felt a pair of arms around him then, and Oikawa clung to them like a lifeline. Iwaizumi didn’t need to say anything because Oikawa told him everything through his blubbering mess of tears. As melodramatic as it was, he felt another piece of himself break each time he told a new part of the story—the pain, the volleyball, the rehab. 

He cried until his eyes were bloodshot and tired. He also felt silly for carrying on as long as he had. At one point he had to let Iwaizumi get up to grab him some ibuprofen. He swallowed the pills dry and used his shirt to mop up the mess from his face. 

“Do you feel better now?” Iwaizumi asked. 

Oikawa shrugged. He did a little, but nothing about his waterworks performance was going to change anything. He was still essentially crippled for the next year. 

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Good. Now stand up.” 

Oikawa looked at him blankly. “Iwa-chan, you know I—” 

“ _Stand up._ ” 

“I can’t,” Oikawa snapped. 

“Damn it, Tooru, just _try _!”__

Oikawa scowled, but reached for Iwaizumi’s outstretched hand. He managed to ease himself up onto his left knee, before Iwaizumi pulled him swiftly into a standing position. Oikawa gasped at the suddenness of it. 

Iwaizumi gave a crooked smile. “You need to understand that people are willing to help you. But you have to be willing to let them.” 

Oikawa sniffled, feeling his eyes sting with fresh tears. He was a wreck. He really hoped the next twelve months went a lot smoother than today had. If he had more people in his life like Iwa-chan, maybe the next year wouldn’t be so bad. 


End file.
